


Target of Interest

by Terapsina



Category: Leverage, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, One Shot, Short One Shot, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terapsina/pseuds/Terapsina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sameen works for Samaritan now and her newest target is a certain brewpub owner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Target of Interest

**Author's Note:**

> It goes like this. I was bored. This scene kept irritating me. I wrote it. It can leave me alone now. And I do hope you like it.

Shaw has her target.

The owner of a small brewpub in Portland. The address of the pub and the target’s face is all she’s been given. In her old days with Northern Lights that would have been enough for her to investigate and then take him and his co-conspirators out. In more recent days she would have investigated and then either saved him or stopped him. In these days she’s just here to take the shot.

Except then she watches as the chef sticks his head out from the back to say something to the man she’s here for, and sees her way out.

Swallowing the last bite of the pancake, it’s pretty good and she hasn’t eaten anything half decent in so long it’s depressing, Sameen stands up and moves towards the target.

She glares, though she knows the exhaustion of the last year is probably showing through to anyone who’s any good at noticing such things. And considering who the man making the pancakes out back is, there’s a rather good chance that Pub-owner is at least decent at it.

“Hey, you’re the owner right? I found a hair in my food.”

The man in her sights blinks owlishly as she leans over the counter and stares up at him. She sees him almost flinch, likely because he knows exactly who she just accused.

“What? That’s not possible.” His voice comes out high and his eyes flicker to the back in an almost panic. Shaw can see him trying to decide on the best way to deal with her. She helps him out.

“I want to talk with your cook.”

“That’s really not-“ Shaw’s glare hardens, channeling a little bit of the last year into the look. Pub-owner leans away. “Yo, Eliot!”

There’s an irritated growl from the kitchen and the doors slam open as the man comes back into the front of the brewery.

“What Hardison, you just said-“ Shaw sees it as Eliot’s eyes take in her, and her target being in arm’s reach of her. Even with the table between them she could snap Pub-owner’s neck before Eliot could reach her, and both of them know it.

He pauses, obviously calculating his options. Before he can settle on attack and create a public spectacle that won’t be good for either of them, her hand goes to her ear, scratching it as her eyes flicker up towards the corner. There’s no camera there, none that she can see, but she knows her message has been understood.

Eliot nods almost imperceptibly and then looks at his partner.

“You wanted something?”

The exchange hasn’t gone unnoticed, because Hardison - Shaw takes note of the name for later, - has already widened the distance between them and is looking at her in suspicion. But he plays along so Shaw hardly cares. “Yeah, this… client said she found hair in her meal.”

Even though it’s obviously just the ploy Shaw used to get Eliot in the room, his frown turns insulted. 

“I want a replacement dish.”

“Of course ma’am,” Shaw’s jaw clenches in fury. “It’s coming right up.” Eliot’s smile is all teeth for a moment, but then his eyes flicker to the other man and something protective takes its place.

“Hardison, I’ve run out of eggs. Why don’t you go get some from the storage?”

“Are you sure that’s a good id-“

“ _Hardison!_ ”

The man starts murmuring to himself agitated, Shaw catches something about bossy hitters, but he obeys and moves around the counter, carefully out Shaw’s reach she notes, in the opposite direction from the kitchen and for the doors marked for employees. Shaw rather doubts that’s where the storage is located, but she lets Eliot get rid of curious eyes, and potential casualties. 

“Would you like to see me make that dish too?” She rolls her eyes at the sarcasm, but there are a few more steps to this dance so she just smiles toothily back, the role of the obnoxious client she took from a particularly bad day at that stupid job Root put her in.

“Yes. And if you could give me this one sans hair, I’d appreciate it.”

Eliot breathes out rather heavily and gestures for her to follow.

As soon as the door closes he springs into action and she gets smashed against the wall. He’s opening his mouth again so she clocks him in the jaw to keep him quiet for a moment longer and then grazes her ear again, this time settling her hand on the pocket of her coat after.

His eyebrows furrow again. But next he’s grabbing her shoulder, Shaw turns while his fingers clench the dark material of the coat, she aims a hit at his throat with her elbow and while his hand still clenches the material she squirms out of the coat, he throws it to the ground and the moment it hits the floor she stomps on it, hearing the phone inside it break. She’s already concocting the story for the debriefing, Eliot Spencer’s good, they might believe her.

She tilts her head in question and receives a head shake in return. He doesn’t have one on him.

But Shaw doesn’t have long anyway. Samaritan will recalibrate to listen in within thirty seconds or less somehow. It always finds something.

Her words come out quickly, but calmly, like laying down military info. 

“Go to New York. Bring your friend, he’s in danger. The moment he steps inside the city, someone will get his number. You can trust them. Tell them I’m not compromised and they need to get me out. It’s planning something.”

Eliot nods though he’s beginning to look like he’d really like some answers now. Just like old days.

Shaw sighs and steps closer as if to add an explanation, instead grabbing Eliot by his shoulders to get leverage she kicks his solar plexus. He takes the hit with barely a wince, always did know how to take a beating. Especially when it’s to his advantage, his retaliation is quick and painful, and exactly what she needs to whisper her final warning.

“But first, save my target from me.”

**Author's Note:**

> DID you like it?


End file.
